“We’re going to the beach! We’re going to the beach! We’re going to the beach!” I sing to Jack and Fiona. I’m jumping up and down. They smile sitting in their high chairs eating waffles and strawberries. I am making stuff for our picnic, quesadillas, cutting up more strawberries, making a nice salad, 2 bottles of milk, and I’m bringing a beer. Billy is looking through the back door, dogs aren’t allowed on this trail, I feel really guilty. I want to check out this hike though. Sorry Billy. Sunscreen, hats, extra clothes, diapers, wipes, teething biscuits, water, beach blanket, shoes, I think we’re ready to go. We are listening to the Sirius reggae station, sun roof open, I’m feeling excited. I’m feeling the same excitement I felt before Jack and Fiona, when I would take my hikes and beach trips with Billy and Zappa. The drive is short, no traffic. We turn down Tennessee Valley road, I lower all the windows, turn off the radio. I’ve never drove down this road before, dogs aren’t allowed on these trails. The only time I was at Tennessee Beach was the time I took my mom and brother on a hike. We started at the Miwok trail by Fort Cronkite. Instead of just following the regular route I took them on an adventure, we scurried down a really steep hillside to get to the beach. Then we had to walk super far to get back. I think they wanted to kill me! My mom and I got really bad poison oak too. The parking lot for the Tennessee Valley trail head is by Miwok stables. I got the babies into the B.O.B. stroller, loaded as much as I could into the underneath storage and showed Jack and Fiona the horses. I say “Neigh” like I do when I read their stories. “That’s a horsey, a beautiful horsey.” I’m not sure they are making the connection. We start down the trail to the beach, it’s almost 2 miles. My friend who has one baby told me it was easy. Maybe with one but with the double B.O.B., 50 lbs of baby, my back pack, I think it’s challenging. It’s definitely a work out. It’s mostly downhill to the beach, there’s a nice breeze, the tree’s move, total peace. We say our hellos to people walking back up from the beach, a lady with a baby asks, “Are those twins?” I say “Yes” She says “I’m a twin, I really want twins. Do twins run in your family?” I say “My husband’s mom had two sets of twins.” We have this conversation a lot when we’re out and about. We get closer to the beach, the babies drink their bottles on the way. I smell the ocean, I am so happy. This is our first trip alone to the beach. All the years I was trying to get pregnant, each month when I was hoping, when there was still hope, I thought to myself I’m going to take my baby to the beach all the time. With twins it’s not possible, the stroller is impossible to roll on thick sand. I am fearing that this will be the case when we get to the beach but I have lots of ideas of how to make it work. I can take one baby at a time super-fast down to the beach, or we can walk back to a picnic spot, we’ve passed several nice ones along the way. But my heart is set on sitting in front of those waves, listening to them crash, sharing my love for the ocean with Jack and Fiona. We get to the sand, it’s not that bad, I employ my upper body strength and get us to a great spot on the beach. I lay out the blanket, sit Jack and Fiona down on the edge, put on their hats and take a picture. They pull off their hats, they put sand, which at this beach is rocks in their mouth. “Don’t take off your hat! Don’t put that in your mouth! What’s in your mouth? You can choke, that’s a big rock!!” Plan B is to slather sunscreen all over their heads, I try to get their faces covered as much as possible and keep putting their hats back on. It’s the best I can do. I think it will be O.K. We eat our picnic, I drink my beer, it’s really hot out. I worry a bit about sun stroke but again, I know it will be O.K. Jack runs so much on the beach, he comes back to the blanket and lays down. So precious. I change diapers, put the babies in short sleeve onesies and into their stroller. They are tired. I pack up and head out, looking back every few minutes at the coast. I turn the stroller around and tell Jack and Fiona to wave goodbye to the beautiful ocean. Ten minutes into the hike back the babies are asleep. There’s a sweet little picnic site near the parking lot I sit and eat my salad with my fingers because I forgot a fork. At first it feels weird but I start grabbing the lettuce, beets, cucumbers, and putting it in my mouth. I mix the dressing perfectly. It’s amazing. My hand is all dirty. First Jack wakes up, he watches me eating like him. I finish and pick him up. He smiles, we’re under a huge tree, green grass is all around us and Jack wants to explore again. Fiona wakes up next, There’s a black bird on the ground next to her. I pick Fiona up, put her on the ground to explore. I wish we could stay longer but I have no more food or bottles. “I’m gonna take you guys home now for chicken soup.” I say. What a great day we had.
Tag: babies
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6:30 A.M., push down the black plastic ball on the French press, pour, honey, cream, taste, it’s perfect. House is dark, babies still sleeping. Time to write. “What did Jack do that was so cute last night?” Alan asks me. He heard me on the monitor while the babies and I were doing our night time routine. Jack put his hat on, a straw hat that Maureen picked out, it reminded her of Mikey Hynes. Mikey always wore a hat. Alan said he would sit in the last row at church so when he took off his hat no one would be sitting behind him to see his bald head, he was in good company too, the row was filled with these men. Mikey would have loved Jack, he would say something like, “He’s a good strong lad.” At night in the nursery when the babies are side by side in their diapers I can really see the width of Jacks back compared to Fiona. His leg muscles are strong, he would be able to work hard on the farm back in Ireland. Sometimes the thought runs through my head, what if he’s giant? What if he develops a love for football and gets used and destroyed way before his time. Right now he’s cuddly, sweet, his cheek always a little damp and cold because of teething. He giggles when I say, “I’m gonna get you.” He’s so fucken cute. The schedules are off by an hour this week, so when I got back the other night from putting Zappa down I was secretly hoping the babies were still awake. I heard them talking in their cribs, I went into the nursery and picked each baby up. I took off their sleep sacks. I needed cuddles from Jack and Fiona. We had missed our routine that night because I wasn’t home at bedtime, Ramona put them down for me. They made me feel better, all their love. Yesterday we mourned Zappa together. We started off going to breakfast. It was our first time. I put Fiona in the front carrier and held Jack, we walked in the door of Le Croissant. I ask if they have high chairs and my waiter sets me up in the way back corner, which is perfect. Jack and Fiona are having a blast, looking at the menu, the ceiling fans, people in the mirrors. I order cinnamon French toast, a jack and avocado omelet, chicken apple sausage, and a cup of milk. For a greasy little diner the food is awesome and a huge hit with the babies. Jack keeps watching one of the waitresses, she comes over a couple times and says, “He’s flirting with me.” One time she asks me how old they are, I tell her one. She then says, “Doesn’t the boy go vroom vroom vroom with trucks already and the girl doesn’t? It’s genetic, the girls don’t do it but the boys do.” I tell her I haven’t noticed that yet and she tells me, “You watch.” We then took Billy on a walk. I let the babies out of their stroller for a while to investigate. Billy was really good, she wasn’t agitated by them at all. But the entire time I was saying, “Jack don’t put that in your mouth. Fiona NO take that out of your mouth.” Little pebbles and wood chips. “Do you want me to make you some toast?” I ask the babies. They are awake now, making funny noises in their high chairs, eating cheerios, pointing to things and squawking. I take out the cinnamon raisin toast too early. It’s kind of soggy but they seem to be enjoying it. I love them so much.
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Shaven legs, been using lotion. Drinking lots of water. Eating well, tummy feeling full, gorged on cake and watermelon. Drinking tequila, can’t get drunk. Only drank one, nursing second one now. Felt free, listening to Sweet Home Alabama, put on a sexy dress, sweeping floor, dancing, saying, “Hi jack! Hi Fiona.” Smile, giggle me, them. This is my dream, to be carefree and fun loving. Always have been, except when I’m down. Take last sip of Tequila. Make a second? Feeling good now, babies asleep, Alan asleep on the couch. I hear a little bird chirping, the hum of the freeway, a saw, someone doing DYI. Kids at the park saying sentences, I can’t make out what they are saying. A car door here a dog barking there. My stomach hurts a little. I’m too conscientious to get drunk or eat anything else. When the babies wake up I will get a closer look at the neighborhood. Billy needs a walk, I’ll wear a hat and sunglasses. I’ll make another margarita. Drink more water. 1/2 a shot of tequila, 1/2 a shot of lime juice and ice in a little tiny goblet. Yum, the new margarita is good. The trash is full. The flowers in the interesting crystal vase with a geometric design of cuts, making triangle ridges that we got as a wedding present that I didn’t like at first but now has grown on me are dead. The water is murky. If I smelt it I know what it would smell like, pond water. There are a few flowers that have survived. Yellow with long tiny petals and two white and purple lilies. The painting of my mom’s dad, he wore a check suit and was a used car salesman, not in the painting. It’s just a portrait, but in the old black and white photographs I’ve studied, he wore check suits. The painting is in a dark corner of the room. The dominant sounds are the birds and freeway, things Fiona couldn’t hear without her hearing aids. Now I am feeling tired. I don’t know about a walk, I’m leaning towards a bath. Or paint! I could totally go paint right now. I’ll bring the baby monitor and my margarita. I’ll just paint super-fast. Just for fun. Then If I have time before any one wakes up I’ll take a hot bath. If they wake up before I’m done painting I’ll take the babies and Billy for a buzzed Sunday afternoon walk on time change day. Good Bye.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 